


We Sleep For Dreaming

by sodoesrachael



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash, Very Minor, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodoesrachael/pseuds/sodoesrachael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At some point along the way, Reid's life had gone spectacularly off course from all the 'should haves.'<br/>Post-Revelations. It's Reid's first day back at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Sleep For Dreaming

_Could you stay with me tonight?  
We sleep for dreaming, and away it goes._

He can feel them, even though they’re in his bag at his feet. Drugs. Drugs and Spencer Reid were two things that were never meant to go together. Then again, neither were Spencer Reid and the FBI, or Spencer Reid and a gun. Or Spencer Reid and Derek Morgan. At some point along the way, Reid's life had gone spectacularly off course from all the _should haves_. He often wonders what would have happened had he not been in that particular lecture hall the day that Gideon gave his recruitment lecture, but only now was he beginning to think that he might have been better off... 

A ‘clunk’ brings him out of his thoughts, and looking up he sees Morgan, grinning at him. Looking down, there’s a fresh cup of coffee on his desk. “Thanks,” he murmurs, smiling a bit. He gets a smile in return, and a small pat on the shoulder, and then he’s alone again. Or as alone as one can be in the BAU bullpen. 

There’s been a lot of this. Of little things, like Morgan getting him coffee, or carrying his things, or holding doors for him. Probably to make up for the fact that Reid is sleeping _alone_ in his apartment these days. It’s not that he doesn’t want- 

He just can’t. 

He can’t do a lot of things, though, since. Like write his mom. He feels terrible, and knows she’s probably really worried, _if she’s lucid_ , but he can’t seem to pick up a pen and write anything that doesn’t start with ‘ _I was kidnapped_ ’ or ‘ _You were right_.’ And he knows she doesn’t need to hear any of those things, the true things, so he doesn’t write. He hasn’t gotten a call from the hospital, so he’s pretty sure that she’s fine regardless. 

And he can’t seem to let _anyone_ in. But then he’s had a lifetime of dealing on his own, and recent events haven’t exactly been habit-breaking. Habit forming, maybe...

Shifting uncomfortably, he takes a sip of the coffee. It’s perfect, of course. It should be, considering how long he’d spent educating Morgan on how to do it just right. There are few things in life that Spencer Reid allows himself to indulge in, and coffee is one of them. If Morgan insists upon being gentlemanly and getting it for him, he’d best do it _right_. 

He turns in his chair slightly to take a peek at Morgan, but he’s busy with the files on his desk. Reid’s own desk is empty, for once, since it’s his first day back and his coworkers are feeling too _sorry_ for him to sneak their extras over to him...

It bugs him. The differences between _now_ and _then_. But as much as he wishes that everything was the same, he knows it can’t be. He knows that he couldn’t handle it. Not now. Not yet. He knows a time will come when things will have to change, when everything will come out, but for now he can pretend. 

He’s good at that. 

A hand brushing his head snaps him back to reality again, and Morgan passes by him. A part of him, a big part of him, thinks that Morgan can tell when he’s... spacing, and is doing his part to help out, by distracting, or rather un-distracting him. He’s thankful for it, and smiles at Morgan again as the man goes back to his desk. He knows he’s drifting a lot, but it’s hard to stay focused when you can’t sleep at night. He can barely even close his eyes, without reliving it all behind his eyelids...

He rubs his eyes, lack of sleep making them grainy, and bends down to dig an old file out of his bag, one from before. A small town in Arkansas had been dealing with a serial killer who was targeting older, single men. It wasn’t much to go on, but Reid had said he’d take a look. That was _before_. Since then, the murders had apparently stopped, but Reid had been at this job long enough to know that didn’t mean they’d stopped for good, so he wanted to look it over again. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been working on it, but he knows he’s getting nowhere fast, when there’s a hand on his shoulder again, squeezing. “Hey kid.” Morgan. “Come on, it’s quittin’ time. I’ll give you a ride.” Nodding, Reid stands, stretching. “Let me just go give this to Hotch, first.” 

Hotch’s office door is open, so he just taps lightly on the wood frame before stepping in. Setting the file on the desk, he swallows and looks at his boss. “I, uh, couldn’t make much sense of it. Maybe someone else will have better luck.” 

Hotch takes a look at the information on the file, and shakes his head lightly. “It’s not luck, Reid,” he says, “there’s nothing really here to go on. I thought if anyone could make sense of it, it’d be you, but I’ll just call them back and tell them that unless there’s more, we can’t help them. No use trying to draw water from a stone.” 

“Blood.” Reid mumbles, looking down. “What?” he hears Hotch ask him. “Blood. The saying. It’s ‘blood from a stone.’” Reid’s slightly taken aback when Hotch grins at him. _Grins_. “Well, that too. Now go home and get some rest. I’ll see you back here in the morning.” 

Nodding, Reid turns, heading back to his desk. He’s stopped short by something being shoved his face, though. His jacket, and a grinning Morgan holding it, along with his bag. “I grabbed your stuff. Let’s head out, pretty boy.” 

Reid stuffs himself in his jacket, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He’s momentarily panicked when he thinks that everyone must have heard the ‘clink’ the bag makes as it moves, but no one does, or cares. Morgan sees his face, though, and asks him if everything’s alright. “’m fine, let’s go.” 

They walk silently to the elevator, and go down, and are to the parking lot when Reid’s head catches up to the rest of him and he makes a decision. “Morgan.” He stops walking. “Derek.” The man in question stops walking ahead of him and turns to face him, his face questioning. “I- um, I” he can’t put words together, but he’s determined to get this out. He takes a deep breath. “Do you want to come over?” he rushes out, looking down. 

He senses as much as he hears Morgan, _Derek_ , walking towards him. An arm is draped carefully over his shoulders, and his body is pulled closer to the other. “Spencer, I thought you’d never ask.” Derek’s breath is hot on his ear, and he allows himself a small smile. As Derek tightens his grip and pulls Spencer towards his car, he thinks that tonight, maybe he’ll finally be able to _dream_ again. 

_Caged in with a beautiful view,  
and I was waiting for the night when I could soar with you._


End file.
